35. Georgie
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
GEORGIE
It's strange to say the words out loud, to hear the words play out in my mind in his voice, over and over on a loop. He loves me. Noah actually loves me. It's just as weird how quickly I start to genuinely believe that those words might be true.
It's one thing to hear the words, to feel them with every breath he takes, like each inhale prepares and each exhale inks the words into my skin in invisible ink that only I can see.
It's a completely different experience to see the meaning of those words so clearly on display now, seeing every ounce of effort he'd put in, past and present, showing me he cares and he really does have feelings for me.
He doesn't resent me; he's not trying to fix me.
He simply wants whatever life I can give to him, so long as I am a part of it.
Blinded by my own insecurities before, I took for granted what was always there in front of me.
Now, I intend to make every moment with this miracle of a man count.
We spend the day together at work, the shop is closed for the day so we can work on a bulk yarn order, and Abi has Noah learning the systems as her final task before she officially retires and leaves the store to our own devices.
Of course, she'll still pop in from time to time, but we've been given creative liberty to update anything we want.
I have many ideas, and I have to get a notebook to write them all down as I start dying a fresh batch of 'rainbow sprinkles' in-house yarn.
Noah watches on in amusement as he clicks around on the computer, taking the courses very ‘seriously’ as he smiles over the top of the laptop screen.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I say shyly over my shoulder.
"I just have a very, very good view."
My body straightens, and I feel the flush in my cheeks.
The cool October weather has called for leggings and cute shirts and sweaters.
Today, it's a pair of black leggings, a three-quarter length sleeve in a soft mauve pink, with crisscross straps to make for a very appealing chest piece.
I have to bend over to swirl the dye into the tubs, and in doing so, my hair falls into my face and obscures my view of Noah unless I am truly trying to see his perfect face.
So, when I think of what he means by the view, he can mean a variety of things, all to do with my body.
It would have made me scoff at one point, to brush the compliment off as if he didn't mean it or that I didn't believe it. But one of the things we promised to work on was that I would be more accepting of his love, and he won’t try to overdo it.
He also has to work on a bad habit. You know, to counteract his perfectness.
So far, he's failed in doing both, but I can't say I mind all that much.
Much like any large flare, the one that caused all the issues fades away as if it was never here at all, only leaving behind a soft pink scar until the next time it resurfaces.
This one healed a lot quicker than normal, and for that I am grateful.
Now, with less stress, and all the Noah time with open communication and so much fucking love I could burst, I feel like I'm actually in a good place.
The flares are minimal.
The pain is tolerable.
The loss of Birdie still hits hard sometimes, but it will fade with time, much like the scars.
I look at her pictures often, wonder what she's doing with that family that took her away, and think about what our life could have been.
Noah says he's still not sure how that family got Birdie in the first place, because the board had decided to leave her with me until the last minute.
He's still looking into that for me. If Birdie were here, she'd be glancing between Noah and me, wondering who would be the first to break eye contact.
It will not be me.
"Oh? You mean this view?" I bend again, watching the way his eyes widen just a little in surprise. He pulls his lip between his teeth to keep from smiling too big, as he takes in my body like a work of art.
I arch my back a bit, fluttering my eyelashes and smiling that knowing smile at him.
Come hither, it says. It works. I hear his chair scraping the floor and he's on me faster than I can let out a giddy laugh and wrap my arms around him too.
His hands are on my hips, fingers tickling across my skin like little fires, moving back to cup my ass and pull me closer, eliciting a soft moan from my mouth.
We've taken things slow, too slow if you ask me.
But Noah didn't want to push it, didn’t want to go too fast or hurt me, and while I understood the effort he was putting forth to show he cared, I had hinted multiple times now that I wanted it, and I wanted it as soon as he was ready to give it.
"Shit. Noah," I giggle, my breath catches when his hands slip under to find that I am not wearing underwear. He hums happily in response. I snort and put my hands on his chest, "Hey, we're at work,"
"Work is closed..." He mumbles against my skin, his stubble leaving little licks of stubble burn on my already hot skin.
I bite my lip and hiss when he bites, and his fingers start trailing, "Noah, we can't do this here."
"Where then? I miss you, I saw something I wanted, can't I have it?" He teases, knowing I want this just as much as him.
"I don't know. At home?" I squeak.
"Where's the fun in that? Live a little." He sighs, fingers nimble as he goes down, down, down and finds that delicate, sensitive spot that melts me with a single touch, and I feel my legs fall open on instinct.
I groan against his shoulder, biting at his sweater. "You're terrible. Someone could see us."
"It just looks like we're hugging." He tells me. He pulls out his phone, showing the security cameras on the screen. "See?"
He's right; we're pressed into the farthest corner of the entire place, hidden by bookshelves full of materials to sell and yarn to dye that we are clearly not dyeing. No one would know, no one could see us from the street, there’s no one in the store, the doors are locked.
The front lights are out, and our heads are the only thing the cameras can see before it cuts off. I can't fault his logic.
"Fu—" I lose my breath, and my words as my thoughts turn into radio static, his fingers slipping inside me and curling just right. My toes curl with his fingers, and it takes all my resolve to keep from coming right then and there.
"I missed this," Noah says, pulling back to watch the way his fingers undo me, curving inside me just forward enough to rub against my g-spot that he's somehow sex wizard deduced to be the prime spot that makes me a shivering, moaning mess. "You're so wet for me."
"You've been holding back," I chide him, nails digging into his skin just a bit.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay enough to play... We're not exactly the slow and steady type." He chuckles.
Pulling all the way out, despite my protest, Noah brings his fingers up to his mouth.
His eyes drop shut, sighing as he tastes me.
I watch this man, my legs open and waiting and wanting, practically dripping into my leggings.
When his eyes meet mine, they're so dark, so hungry, so needy, I almost die.
"Please make me come."
"That's usually my line..." He says, hand slipping back beneath my waistband, the other holding my hip and body pinning me firmly against the shelves of forgotten yarn behind us. "But I think you need this, right? I think we both need this."
"Yes, Gods, yes." I cry out as his fingers twirl around my clit once, twice, pinching ever so slightly to make me throb between my legs before his ring and middle finger slip inside me again, unrelenting, fucking me until all I can say is 'yes' and 'please' and 'harder.'
Oh god does he ever listen, and his one hand reaches up to pull me into a kiss before it trails down and stays like a phantom necklace on my throat, not squeezing, just taking what it wants, claiming me as his.
I think I hear something along the lines of 'good girl' falling from his lips, and my breath hitches, I choke out something that sounds like pleaseyesdontstopI'mcoming, and that's it, his fingers press just right, his hand at my neck makes a final mark, and I am undone.
I come on his fingers, on his words of love, and the way he calls me beautiful makes me feel like a thousand suns, only shining for him.
"Jesus, Georgie. You're absolutely soaked." Noah holds out his hand to show me the aftermath, a puddle of me slips down his palm.He is beyond grinning. I cover my face, hiding away so he can't see how positively pink my cheeks are, or how badly I want him. Again.
"Shut up," I whine, peeking through split fingers to watch him wipe his hand on a cleaning towel from the table.
"Thank you." He says, leaning in to kiss me.
I kiss him back, but the notion sinks in and makes me laugh incredulously, "What? It should be me thanking you for the orgasm. I didn't know I needed that so badly."
"I promise not to make you wait that long next time." He winks.
"You better not." Like a flip of a switch, my hand is in his hair, pulling just hard enough to elicit that glorious sound of Noah becoming impossibly turned on, his lips pink and full, and I nip the bottom one, pulling him in.
I touch his cheek with the other hand, smiling when he leans in and nuzzles, "You're going to be good for me, right? "
"Yes, Goddess."
Shit. The wave of emotion and arousal those two words strung together makes me want to take him right here, right now, on this very floor.
Hell, when Abi found out when we first started dating, she wanted all the saucy details.
Of course, we never said, but the cameras be damned, I want him now.
I slowly sink to my knees and smirk up at him.
"Do you need the bookshelf to lean on?" I ask politely as I unbutton his jeans, loving the way his erection is already outlined and happy to see me.
"Um..." I palm him over his boxers, and he hisses, swaying. The answer he’s looking for is ‘yes.’
We shuffle around so he stands where I once stood, and I kneel in front of him, waiting for that moment for him to tell me he's comfortable. Waiting. I see that flicker in his eyes and I know.
Even from down here, I can see the power I hold over him right now.
Noah's hands are in fists at his side, wanting to touch but letting me lead.
His jaw is set firm, but it instantly slackens in reaction to the way I push his pants open just enough to pull his cock out over his boxers.
He shivers through the feeling of the cool air, opens his eyes to reveal dilated pupils, and his breath is shaking as he holds his control.
Noah loses that hold the second I take his cock in my hand and lick the tip.
“Oh shit,” He wobbles, holding himself to the bookshelf like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. Maybe it is. I chuckle, taking him in my mouth and twirling my tongue the way I’ve learned to melt Noah to his core.
I take him close to the edge twice, stopping and pulling back to grin at him when he makes that needy whine that makes me want to do it over and over.
But I can see the need growing, his chest rising and falling.
Right as I am about to take him back in, his phone rings, startling me. He looks at him, hesitating.
“You gonna get that?” I say playfully.
His eyes widen, “But you’re… But I’m… But we…”
I pat his thigh. “Better answer it, wouldn’t want the person to think you’re rude or something.”
With shaking hands, he reaches into his pocket and swipes the phone. I swallow him down completely. “Hell—oh.”
Perfect. I focus on my job, keeping him going and on edge and fuck he looks so good trying to keep his composure, mine slips. I use my teeth a little too much and he hisses.
“Mary, slow down—shit, she what?”
His tone seems off, but I redouble my efforts, and his eyes flash at me. He grabs my hair in his hands, like a flip of a switch again, he’s using my mouth the way he wants, and I have no problem letting him. I maintain eye contact as he does it.
His face contorts, I know he’s close. But then, he stills for a moment, regaining his breath. His face shifts to one of seriousness, “Where did they leave her?”
I move to pull off him, but his hand stays at the back of my head, making me take it, take him, hold him until he’s ready to fuck me further. I love every second of this.
I am seriously close to another orgasm when he says, “Okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out, Mary. Thanks.”
He hangs up the call, and it’s only a few short grunts and thrusts before he’s warning me, asking with his eyes and the grip in my hair whether or not I want to stay here when he comes.
I flash him a wicked gaze and cup his balls in my hand, humming a vibration through him.
It’s all it takes for him to come undone.
He slides to the floor next to me, winded and shaking his head incredulously as I lick my lips, beaming. We stay like this a moment, tangled half-clothed limbs and panting breaths, and when he finally regains his ability to function, Noah tugs me up off the floor and sets our clothes right.
“What is it? You sounded… stressed for a minute there. I can see that pinch in your brow you get when you’re angry and thinking.”
He sighs, the tension leaving his face for a brief second before returning, but with a little flash of something else too. “It’s Birdie. We’re getting her back, Goddess. She’s coming home.”
That little flash in his eyes? That is hope.